


In a different light

by neverending_shenanigans



Series: Hocus Pocus AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Darcy Lewis-centric, Darcyland, F/M, Good Slytherins, Marauders' Era, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were dark things looming on the edge of Darcy’s world in 1971. Dark things that she mostly didn’t see yet, that would challenge friendships, trusts and beliefs of her young life. It was also the year that Darcy was enrolled in Hogwarts, and the world might just not have been prepared for that, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a different light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barnebucky](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=barnebucky), [usedkarma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedkarma/gifts).



 

For most of her life, Darcy had not really felt like magic was a special part of her. It had been sort of “just there”, but as she hadn’t even had a wand, the most magical stuff she could do was eating Chocolate Frogs and ride her older brother’s brooms under supervision. Brandon was fourteen already and was so stuck up on being the good kid that he wouldn’t let her do anything with magic that their parents wouldn’t approve of, so there really wasn’t any hope for her secretly trying things out before her time.

So magic? She knew that it was part of her life, in small things. Like the dishes washing themselves. Like the candles that lit themselves whenever someone was in the room. Or the clothes that flew from iron board into their rooms, and placed themselves gently folded on their beds.

She knew that it was magic, because she knew that muggles didn’t do it that way. Darcy’s family lived in a normal muggle-town, so growing up had been much like growing up in two worlds at the same time, always figuring out what was normal to what world.

But magic being part of her daily life didn’t mean that it was anything but marginal in its impact on her. It might have frustrated her to know that she couldn’t just repair everything she broke with the flick of her wand like her father did, but it had never been something she grudged. It had helped, of course, that one of her best friends was a muggle. A muggle through and through, too, one that didn’t know anything about the parallel life that was going on.

Maggie was the nice girl from next door, that moved in there when Darcy was seven, and they had been attached at the hips ever since. Maggie was funny and smart, and she was great at coming up with really wicked games. Of course, Darcy wasn’t to talk about magic with Maggie. But not talking about magic made it a lot easier to forget about magic and not feel like she was missing out on something.

When Maggie was around, all the magic in her home died down as well, and it made Darcy forget about it. Sometimes she wished she had been born a muggle, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with her brother taunting her with his magic when he was around during the holidays.

That is, until she turned ten. Suddenly everyone felt like shoving magic in her face. Just one year until she would be send to Hogwarts. The year between your tenth and your eleventh birthday was supposed to be one of the most exciting ones, with magic just the blink of an eye away of you. Darcy learned that kind of the hard way, when she sneezed glitter.

Magic usually showed pretty early in children whose parents were both wizards and witches, but usually it was just a small thing that happened under duress. In the year between your tenth birthday and your eleventh birthday, however, magic happened more spontaneously. Like you couldn’t contain it any longer. And, apparently, she was just lucky enough that she was one of the kids who were early bloomers.

And one time, when she was at Maggie’s house and they were playing in the attic, some of the dust got into her nose, and it tickled funny, and… she sneezed glitter. There really was no other way to put it.

Maggie had seen it, but not been really sure what she saw, so Darcy had pretended that she had found some glitter in a box and had just wanted to throw it on Maggie and had failed because of her sneezing. Maggie had believed her, and Darcy had still been excited about it. She had run home to tell her mother, who had seemed happy and had smiled – and then forbade her to go back to play with Maggie for that day.

In fact, her mother had been very adamant about only inviting Maggie to her place to play from now on, not going back there. Darcy had been furious and tried to sneak out, until her father had sat down with tea and cookies in her pillow castle with her, explaining that it was all to protect Maggie.

Darcy couldn’t control her magic, so sometimes things happened. She could accidentally turn Maggie in a mouse, for example, and wouldn’t that be a truly horrible thing for her friend? It was safer if one of the adults was around to help her in such a moment.

And her father was always around. He was a writer, after all, constantly smashing away on his typewriter. He wrote lovely children’s books that were published in the muggle world, too, and Maggie really liked them. Though she had admitted that she thought Darcy’s father was weird, but Darcy adored him. So naturally she listened to him.

Still. The new rules of playing, and the awkward feeling of insecurity of ‘when will I burst out magic next?’ kind of made the year between her tenth and her eleventh birthday less fun and exciting than she had anticipated. In fact, Darcy once asked her mother if maybe … wasn’t there a way to give away her magic? And just go to a muggle school with Maggie?

She really wouldn’t have minded much. The thought of going to a school without Maggie, where she knew no-one except her stupid older brother, seemed like a no-fun-thing. Her mother had been really horrified by the question, though, so Darcy didn’t ask again. Her mother had had the expression on her face that she only wore if Darcy had made her sad somehow.

Probably her mother was sad that Darcy didn’t want magic. So she made it a point of using magic for everything in the next days. Darcy wasn’t really impressed. And she wasn’t impressed when her mother invited over a colleague, from the ministry of magic, with her kids. Her mother was really sneaky. (Or manipulative, as her father liked to call it.) Probably she hoped that the kids’ excitement over Hogwarts and Magic would make her excited as well. It only made Darcy wearier of the kids.

Florence and Frederic. They were okay, but Darcy had never liked being set up for play dates. She liked choosing the people she spend time with, and Florence and Frederic were annoying. All they talked about was Hogwarts, and what house they wanted to get sorted into. Florence wanted to get into Ravenclaw, because most of the important people at the Ministry of Magic had been in Ravenclaw and she wanted to be the first female British Minister for Magic.

Frederic wanted to get into Hufflepuff, like their mother had been, and wanted to become a Doctor at St. Mungus. What both of them agreed on was that they didn’t want to be in the same house – because they had always been together, and that was just boring – and that neither of them wanted to get into Slytherin. All bad people had been in Slytherin, apparently.

Which was stupid, and it angered Darcy that they said that. Darcy’s mother and her grandmother had been a Slytherin, and neither were ‘evil’ or ‘wicked’. They were wickedly awesome, if anything, and Darcy told them as much. Her grandmother Azalea Greengrass lived in her own castle, together with one of Darcy’s aunts. Their grandmothers surely didn’t have castles with secret dungeons, did they?

Frederic and Florence were still a bit iffy about the whole Slytherin thing, though. When they asked Darcy where she wanted to go, Darcy found that she really didn’t care. She would do what she wanted to do either way, was it really important in what house she would be? It wouldn’t change who she was, right?

Florence had looked at her like she had grown a second head, and Frederic had patiently tried to explain her that it was important to take pride in who you were. And that you spend all your school life mostly with the people of your house, they became friends for life. And there were house rivalries.

This was a concept that Darcy found even weirder. Darcy’s father had been a Ravenclaw, Brandon was a Hufflepuff, and her mother had been Slytherin. Her favourite grandmother had been Slytherin, and her uncle had been Gryffindor, her mother’s brother had been Slytherin, one of her mother’s sisters had been Slytherin and the other Ravenclaw. She loved all of them. She could be friends with whoever she wanted to be. And she would love her brother regardless of what house she would be in. Even if he was an idiot.

Still, the answer didn’t pacify them. They started asking questions about her that she grew all the more annoyed with. She was smart, so she should be Ravenclaw, Florence argued. She was loyal to her family, so she should be Hufflepuff, Frederic replied. She was brave, because she didn’t fear spiders, and according to Florence, that meant she was for Gryffindor. However, she was also impatient, so that probably meant she should be afraid of going to Slytherin, Frederic argued. To which Florence rebuffed that now he was being mean to her – was he? – and that he should be the one to go to Slytherin. After that, a fight between the Siblings started that Darcy used to sneak into the garden and let her feet dangle in the pond.

There she sat, mellowing over what she had heard. It wasn’t like she couldn’t be friends with people from other houses, was it? Would she necessarily become smarter if she was in Ravenclaw – and did it mean that if she wouldn’t be in Ravenclaw, that she wouldn’t be smart? Or that she couldn’t be truly brave if she wasn’t in Gryffindor?

Her mother came to call her in again when Florence and Frederic complained that she had simply left them, and when Darcy asked her about it, her mother merely laughed, reassuring her that whatever house she would be in would be perfect for her and she could be everything she wanted – brave, loyal, smart and ‘wickedly awesome’ at the same time.

That’s when Darcy decided that she really didn’t care. She would be fine either way. And in whatever house she would be… Maggie wasn’t there, and Florence’s and Frederic’s excitement wouldn’t distract her from that, despite what her mother hoped.

 

And the most awful thing of all was that she couldn’t even complain about it to Maggie. Sweet Maggie, who was a bit sulky that Darcy’s parents would be sending her off to a boarding school, but who was still sure that they could send letters and meet up for the holidays and that they could maybe visit each other’s school and nothing had to change.

The day that Maggie brought her school uniform over to show it to Darcy was one of the worst days in Darcy’s life. She would surely never be as sad again. She refused to come down for dinner that evening, and when her father came up with a plate with his famous plum pudding that he had made just to cheer her up, it made her cry for the first time over having to go to Hogwarts.

She didn’t want to be away from her family and from Maggie. She wanted the same green school uniform that Maggie got and wanted to complain about the hideous shoes that went together with them, too. And she wanted to come home after school and ask her father to help her with her homework, and beg him to make pudding with her, or read out his most recent chapter of that new book he was working on for her.

Her parents, of course, noted that she got sulkier the closer her eleventh birthday in August came. Not even Brandon’s return home and the prospect of being allowed to fly on his broom could cheer her up. She felt like all his magic tricks that he did were bribery, and on her birthday, she didn’t even touch the chocolate frogs.

When the letter of admittance came, though, she got curious. Especially about the part where it said that she could have a pet. Brandon hadn’t wanted a pet when he had been sent to Hogwarts back then, because he never had cared much for animals at all. Too much of a hassle to take care of them. Which was unusual for someone from Hufflepuff, he had confided in her when he had gotten home after his first year. Everyone from Hufflepuff seemed to have tons of pets and loved theirs and everyone’s pets. Now, after returning for his fourth year, he offered to get a pet together with Darcy, so they could share the duties. Probably that was Brandon’s try now to cheer her up and make her excited about Hogwarts.

At least the shoes for her uniform were hideous as well. Her mother brought it along from her way home from work, saying that the robes and scarves and things like would adjust its colours magically to fit to the house she got sorted in. Before she had finished, Darcy had already called Maggie and asked to come over immediately.

She pointed out all the flaws in the uniform, and was a bit miffed when Maggie told her that she liked the grey sweater and the simplicity of the whole thing. Yet still, as all best friends should, she was loyal about the shoes and how weird the long black coat was. And they made plans how Darcy could possibly sneak her favourite red shoes over to school.

 

At the middle of August Darcy was at least… well, a bit nervous. Her mother had continued to invite Frederic and Florence over, and it seemed that they at least got a bit to her, so she found herself asking her father about his family, and his house. Her father had been in Ravenclaw, and his younger brother, Thomas, had been Gryffindor. Darcy loved her uncle Thomas, he was loud and boisterous and funny – and she had learnt the pretty word ‘boisterous’ from him.

Darcy didn’t know her father’s parents, though, so she sat cuddled up to him on the couch, in front of the fireplace, and he told her of them. Her grandfather had been Klaus Blumenthal, from a long and old Jewish wizard-family in Germany. He had adopted the Name ‘Lewis’ that she bore now, too, when he had fled to England in the thirties – he had been a spy for the British Ministry of Magic at the time. Which Darcy thought all kinds of cool.

Her grandmother had been a bit of an English noble-woman, Chastity Fawley, of an equally old wizard line. She had been in Hufflepuff , like most of the Fawley family had been. Her grandmother had been her grandfather’s superior at the time, because she had been working for the Ministry as well, and it had been … well, not love at first sight. Her father made it a point to stress how often his parents had been fighting all his life. But they had held feelings for each other, and her grandma had accepted her grandfather’s fifth marriage proposal and had become a Lewis as well. After this conversation Darcy was at least convinced that being a Hufflepuff would be okay for her.

 

 

*****

 

And then the supposedly big day came up, when her father took her and Brandon to Diagon Alley. Darcy was dead set on not smiling her whole time there. Her father gathered her books while she and Brandon went over to the pet shop “Magical Menagerie” to pick out a pet. The letter to Hogwarts had mentioned ‘cats’, ‘owls’ or ‘toads’, but Brandon assured her that the rule wasn’t as strict. As long as you took care of your pet and it wasn’t bigger than a cat, you would be fine. One of his classmates had a pet-spider for example, and someone else had brought his fish.

So at first Darcy had wanted to rat, because she knew that Frederic hated rats, and if she ended up in the same house at him it would be fun to annoy him with her pet. Brandon suggested an owl, because that was practical, but Darcy didn’t want an owl. And it would be weird to explain to Maggie why she had an owl. That’s also why she didn’t want a Frog or a Toad. She wanted something she could show to Maggie, something that wasn’t too obviously magical.

Darcy did consider one of the ferrets, for a bit, an albino one, but at that Brandon refused vehemently. He hated ferrets; he said they were creatures of evil. Some guy called Sturgis Podmore, who was in the same year in Hufflepuff and a friend of Brandon’s, had a ferret and it had bitten him. He had the scars to show it.

Darcy did consider getting a snake, because there was a beautiful golden one, but again, Brandon refused on the grounds that Snake’s were Slytherin-Pets and owls and hawks chased Snakes. One of the girls in Hufflepuff he liked had an owl (Darcy made vomiting sounds at that) that he didn’t want her pet to eat his. So, in the end, they settled for a cat.

Which was easier said than done, because Darcy wanted a kitten whereas Brandon wanted an older cat that was already trained and could do some things. After a bit of whining Brandon let her have her way, though, and Darcy wandered the kitten-boxes, eying them all over.

There were boxes with black kittens, ginger kittens and Siamese kittens. Darcy felt immediately drawn to a very small litter. The kittens in there were grey and a tad bit smaller than other kittens, and they were spotted. One of them looked at her very pointedly, and mewed loudly and demanding. Darcy was head over heels, when Brandon stood by her side.

“’Egyptian Mau’? I think I’ve heard of those. They’re not very common.” “But they’re formidable companions, if they accept you.” One of the shop assistants had made her way through the crowd of kids over to them, with a wide smile. “They were bread to resemble the ancient Egyptian cats of our magical forefathers, and as a result, they are stronger than most, and the quickest of all known cats to date. They are extremely musical and clever, and very keen for magic.” Brandon looked at the group of five, and then back at the shop assistant. “Why do you only have so few, then? You didn’t have them last year, did you?”

The woman’s smile shifted a bit into a grimace. “Well. They’re… problematic to sell, because of their very selected breeding. The Mau chooses her owner. If she doesn’t like you, she can be very fierce and doesn’t hold back in showing her dislike. We often get them brought back, so we stopped selling those years ago. It’s a bit of an experiment that we’re trying again. Would you like to try if they’d like you?” The last words were directed at Darcy, and she nodded very enthusiastically.

When the woman pulled out the box, Darcy carefully held her hand into the group of kittens. They sniffed and mewled at her, but all of them turned their back to her sooner or later, or even hissed. Darcy was about to take her hand back with a bit of disappointment when one of the kittens suddenly lurched forward, directly into her hand. It was the little one from before, with the exceptional turquoise eyes and little black markings around them.

When Darcy pulled it out, her eyes lit up, and she looked at Brandon with a smug expression. He rolled his eyes. “Of course you have to pick the difficult kind of cat. Ah, well. What do they cost?” The assistant smiled. “14 galleons.” At that, Brandon glanced at the other kittens. Darcy knew it was a lot, but when he saw her pleading expression, he gave in, and told her he would get father. Darcy carefully held the little kitten to her chest while she waited at the counter.

By the time Brandon returned with their father, Darcy had already settled for a name for the little cutie. A ‘her’, as the shop-assistant had informed her. Circe, like that sorceress from that old story her father loved to read. When she asked her kitten if she liked it, she lazily flicked her tail and mewed. She didn’t bite her, so it was probably a good sign. And by the proud beam on her father’s face, he seemed to like it as well. He also bought a cat-box and some toys for Circe, and a book on how to take care of magical cats, before they left, for the only store left to visit, and the one that Darcy had dreaded the most. Ollivander’s Wand Shop.

Brandon held her hand as she entered the shop, and Darcy marvelled at the narrow and shabby shop, with the high shelves and so much dust around that Darcy could practically taste it in the air. A cough came out of nowhere, and a voice called to them that “I” would be there soon. And “I” turned out to be an old, weird looking man, just like Brandon had described him to be. Her father greeted him cheerfully, and the man requested to see her father’s wand, caressing it lovingly. “Ah, I remember. Chestnut, 10 ¼ ", and a scale of a Lindwurm. Headstrong thing… quite like your mothers, wasn’t it?”

Her father had beamed proudly, like he had been praised, or something, as he had pocketed the wand again and nodded. Then the old man had looked at Darcy with his pale silver eyes, bowing over to her, so he was more on her eye-level. “And this little lady wishes for a wand as well, huh?” Darcy nodded. “Well, I will _need_ one if I _have_ to go to Hogwarts.” She looked at her father from the corners of her eyes, almost accusingly. Mr. Ollivander seemed to smile briefly, before he held out his hand. “Well then. Your hand, please.”

Darcy held out her hand and observed as he pulled out a silver thing, that turned out to be a tape measure. He placed it on her hand, and then the thing came to life and started to measure just about everything on her. The length of her middle finger, finger to wrist, finger to shoulder, one shoulder to the other, shoulder to hip, hip to floor, Toe to knee, one knee to the other… Darcy couldn’t follow it quickly enough, but Mr. Ollivander was nodding seriously all the while, before he clapped in is hands once and the measure fell to the floor.

“Oh yes… yes, I should think that would work…well, mostly…let’s just see, shall we?” And then he turned, walked over to one shelf, handing her one wand. Darcy had been a bit to preoccupied with the measure on the floor and her hand was still outstretched, so he simply placed the wand in it.

“Chestnut, 11" and a core of a Veela hair…. I don’t use Veela, too temperamental… my father made this… but it might be good for you.” He made a gesture at her, and Brandon softly put on hand on her shoulder, so Darcy carefully flicked the wand. A light bulb on the ceiling exploded, and Darcy nearly dropped the wand, as she looked up. “Unicorncrap.” “Darcy!” Her father shot her a stern look, and Brandon snorted.

Mr. Ollivander had simply shaken his head a bit unhappily, but not even glanced at the lamp, merely at the wand. Darcy gave it back to him, and he turned back to the shelved. Brandon have her a little nudge. “Go with him and spare him the way. I had to test thirteen wands till we found mine and dad took even longer.”

Darcy followed with a bit of uncertainty. Mr. Ollivander had climbed one massive ladder, and was already sliding down again when she reached him. Now he held out a much shorter wand for her. “Maple wood, 9", Unicornhair. I think… this one would do well for Charms. ” Darcy flicked the wand, and this time the reaction came before she was even done with the movement. The power of the wand pushed the ladder from Mr. Ollivander to the end of the shelf and pushed such a shock through her arm that Darcy stumbled backwards and fell on her ass. “Ouch.”

Luckily, Mr. Ollivander had been holding unto his ladder tight, and, again, he didn’t seem fathomed. Then again – if Brandon alone had over ten turns, and he had even made her parents wands, what _could_ surprise this guy? He was tilting his head from one side to the other. “Hm. Hmmm. Let’s try something else… more similar to your maternal family maybe…” As he got of his ladder and walked to another aisle, Darcy followed again.

“You even remember my mother’s wand?” Mr Ollivander only so much as glanced at her, but the wrinkles around his eyes and the corner of his mouth deepened in amusement. “My family has always been making wands for her family… at least from what I know. Yes… yes, I remember it. Selena Greengrass. Of course I do. Mahogany, 13", Dragonheartstring ... lovely wand, that one… delicate and clever…Ah, here it is.“ He had crouched down in front of a different shelf, and now held out another wand for her.

“Mahogany, 11", Phoenix. Capacity for great but… ah, we’ll see. It’s… selective. Have had it for a decade.” Darcy liked the look of it, at least. She flicked it, and Mr. Ollivander chuckled when the boxes in the shelf all started to rattled, like the wands in them had come to life. Yet he shook his head, and gently took the wand from her again. “Ah, well. But close… yes…very close, I should think. Predictably…. You do take after your mother, little lady. Your brother is your father’s son, but you… you should do well with something else.”

Darcy could only follow him as he marched away yet again, passing by her father and her brother, who were currently thumbing through the books on the treatment of a cat her father had bought earlier. They passed into a darker part of the shop. “This one is of a certain Hazel…. very sensitive to magic…used it to search for silver, once. Your grandmother Azalea. She had kept it in your family’s manor…still does, doesn’t she? Is she well?” Darcy nodded, looking around curiously. “Alive and kicking. You know her?” Mr. Ollivander didn’t seem to hear her question. He was on yet another ladder, pulling out a most dusty box. He presented the wand to her. “Hazel, 13", Dragonheartstring.”

Darcy immediately felt that this wand weighted differently in her hand. It was lighter than the ones before, but it tickled in her finger tips. When she grasped it, and gave a tentative flick, little silver sparks were emitted from the tip and seemed to float in the air for a couple of seconds before vanishing. Darcy beamed at Mr. Ollivander, sure that this was a good sign, and he nodded, most pleased.

“Ah, yes, as I thought….certainly a good match… quite loyal and flexible….dangerously temperamental, though, like your grandmother’s…we’ll have to see, but you should tread carefully with this one.” He took the wand from her and placed it back in the box, which he now dusted off with his sleeve, before putting one hand on her shoulder, leading her back to the front of the shop.

Her father looked up from the book briefly, and smiled as he saw that Mr. Ollivander was holding a box. “Ah, so quick already? It took me longer. How many did you test?” Darcy grinned. “Fourth one worked like charm. I beat you.” Her father ruffled her hair. “That you did.”

Then he handed her Circe’s box, and pulled out his purse. “How much will that make?” “8 Galleons, please.” David handed over the coins, and then put the wand away into his pockets. “Thank you.” “My pleasure. Give my regards to your wife and to Azalea. Will she-… ah, oh, another costumer. Another time, David.” And with that, Mr. Ollivander was already upon the next kid, and Darcy let her father usher them out of the shop.

 

When she returned home, her mother was pleased with her choices for the day. She liked Circe well enough – though she rolled her eyes when Darcy informed her of the name – and she said that her grandmother would be so proud to hear that Darcy’s wand was made of the family’s old hazel. They only went once a year to visit her grandma, for Christmas, so Darcy couldn’t say she remembered seeing a hazel, but she was proud of it none the less. Darcy almost begged her mother that she would be allowed to show it to Maggie – claim it’s a toy, or something – but of course all her mother did was put it away. Well. There was always her kitten. Her mother graciously allowed to invite Maggie over once they had packed her things for school, so they could make sure that her father hadn’t forgotten to buy anything.

Darcy had never packed a suitcase before in her life, so mostly it was her mother packing anyway, commenting on where she put what as she went, reminding Darcy to be careful with that scarf - “It’s Kashmir, darling, so don’t wear it if you go plan to get dirty, okay?” – and – “I’m packing you lots of extra socks, dear, so make sure to keep your feet warm.” – and of course – “Darcy, wait. Where are your uniform-shoes? You can’t only take your red shoes with you, dear. Darcy, are you listening to me? Please, at least try and go by the school uniform rules.” When it all became too much for Darcy, she just started to play with Circe instead. September was still two weeks away. That seemed like forever.

 

 

*****

 

Technically, Darcy knew she would be fine. She had never had any trouble making friends or adapting to new situations – that is, if she wanted to. It was also what her mother had said to her, before putting her in that train.

“Come, Darcy, don’t make that face at me. You will be fine. Frederic and Florence Lacan are already in that train, and your brother has survived the first three years as well. So it’s not like you’ll be all alone. You’re just like your Grandma, remember? I bet, if you want to, you can have ten new friends before the end of that train-ride.” Technically, she knew her mother was right. But that was just technically speaking.

Technically, no mother should be able to send away her child, either. And here she was, sitting in a sodden castle, away from home, because her mother had banished her. And it would be four month until she’d see her again! Four month! That was a third of the year. No mother who really loved and appreciated her child would be able to part with her for so long.

So of course she doubted her mother. She had every right to. And it was only natural that Darcy also refused to be a good child and ‘adapt’ or ‘make friends’. In fact, Darcy made quite the effort to be sulky and scowly during the whole train ride earlier.

When some kids had introduced themselves to her, she had barely muttered back her name, and then kept staring out of the window. So most kids stayed away from her and left her compartment again. Only that one girl stayed around, Leslie Burke, because at least here it was quiet and she could sleep. And later two boys came around, Algar Avery and Bartholomew Mulciber, who insisted that her grandmother had been in Hogwarts with their grandfathers and grandmothers. Darcy didn’t even bother asking what grandmother. She pretended to want to sleep as well.

Once they were out of the train, they got sat into stupid nutshell-boats. Darcy didn’t like water much, and she thought it was unfair that all the first-years had to go up by boat and the others got to ride in magical carriages. And of course it had started to rain, so they had been positively drenched. And even after one old Lady ushered so called ‘Prefects’ over to them to spell them dry Darcy had felt drenched to the bone.

The castle did, admittedly, make her forget about her sulking for a bit. It had been the most amazing view from outside, and inside it was even more impressive. Maybe she had been just a little bit excited when the Lady from before with the stern expression had come back; introducing herself as Professor McGonagall, telling them that they now would be sorted.

She told them pretty much what Florence and Frederic had told her before: The houses were to be their family. Only that it sounded more dreadful, now, that a teacher had said it. So, was she not to be friends with someone from some other house? They were to stand in rows of two and follow her. Darcy ended up next to a boy who introduced himself in an overly excited whisper as ‘Henry Little’, and then added, without taking breath “I will be Gryffindor. Everyone in my family was Gryffindor.”

Behind her, a pale boy had spoken up at that, who managed to still look drenched even though they had been dried. “It’s not really about your family. It’s about who you are, and how you have been raised. Don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot. ” Henry and the boy had some discussion about that and Darcy zoned out, remind herself that she wasn’t nervous.

And then the old Lady started walking, golden magical doors opening for her by itself. They were led into a large hall with four long tables. The hall was truly big, and it reminded Darcy of her grandmother’s castle. Though it was probably still bigger than any room in her grandmother’s castle, and that said something.

The hall was all filled up with kids from different ages. Henry and the boy deciding to be distracted by the floating candles and the ceiling, when they entered the room. That was wicked: It looked just as dark and grey with clouds as the night-sky outside. She could only hope that it wouldn’t be raining inside. Darcy tore her eyes away from the ceiling, pushing up her glasses to mask how impressed she really was. She didn’t want to be here. Yes, that.

She started to look around for her brother. She was happy to find him in his uniform on one of the tables they passed, with a black and yellow tie around his neck. So that was where Hufflepuffs sat? The people he sat with grinned friendly in her direction as Brandon waved. Darcy was especially impressed with one girl who sat at her brother’s side, with really beautiful blue eyes. Was that the girl he had mentioned in the pet shop, the one he liked?

She thought she would probably like to be in the same house as her brother… right? Some rows in front of her were Florence and Frederic, not-so-quietly fighting over something again. Darcy couldn’t make out everything, but the names of the houses were to be heard. Of course. Darcy had told anyone who had listened – so, her father, her mother, her brother and the twins – that she didn’t care in what house she ended up. And she didn’t. Right?

She knew that her brother and had a bet going on if she would be Hufflepuff or not. Her brother believed she would be Hufflepuff, but her father actually thought she would be Gryffindor. She was the bravest person he knew, he had boasted, at the diner table, before her mother had wacked him in the head for bringing up that topic. She had also made sure to remind her not to feel pressured.

That had seemed simpler back home than right now, in front of all those people. She kind of would like for Brandon to be her family here as he was her family home. However stupid he was sometimes.

At the end of the hall, the old Lady - Professor McGonagall - turned to one side of the room, giving one of the older guys she had called “Prefect” earlier a wave with her hand. The boy carried a three-legged chair towards her, on which a hat was placed. So that was the sorting had Florence and Frederic had been talking about? It looked positively… well… shabby? Darcy thought it was a bad choice to let her future rest with that thing. She wondered. Could it be tricked? The room had fallen eerily silent, when Darcy looked back at Brandon again; he and everyone else on their table seemed to stare intently at the hat, so she decided to do to.

And suddenly the folds on hat moved, and what seemed simply a sign of age before turned into a face. And two folds, that turned out to be edges of a rip, started to move, like lips, and the hat began to… sing? Was that singing? Did he sort them with _singing_? She looked with all the incredulity she could muster at the Henry-kid, but he just seemed mightily thrilled.

 

_Hogwarts now awaits you,_

_Four Houses, proud and strong,_

_And their tale is old and true,_

_So listen to my song._

_I am called the Sorting Hat_

_And I alone will judge_

_If you are brave or just a brat,_

_And give you the right nudge_

_Are you valiant and bold,_

_Adventurous and gallant?_

_Gryffindor, in red and gold,_

_will improve that talent._

_Are you a child of loyalty,_

_Kind at heat and just?_

_If you treasure honesty,_

_Then Hufflepuff’s your must._

_And those of you who seem to be,_

_Creative, smart and witty?_

_Ravenclaw’s your cup of tea,_

_All else would be a pitty._

_Are you one with cleverness,_

_Resourceful, with ambition?_

_I’ll place you effortlessly_

_In Slytherin by tradition._

_After I have made my choice,_

_Don’t fret in fear or pout_

_Embrace your house and do rejoice_

_There is no time for doubt._

_Hogwarts now awaits you,_

_Legacy of four founders,_

_Be open for things old and new,_

_And you will be one of ours._

_One of ours, each and all,_

_Hogwarts in unity_

_Stand together, proud and tall,_

_as friends and family_.

 

The boy behind her from before snickered, as the hat was finished and people began to clap enthusiastically. Darcy turned to look at him, and he leaned forward, to whisper in her ear. “When my mother was sorted, the Hat rhymed on for almost fifteen minutes. She warned me to be patient, you know. We’re lucky it was only this short.”

Darcy nodded in agreement, still a bit unsure of what this was even about. So the hat would only now sort them, and he had just been singing this bit … to introduce himself? Well, that was alright, she supposed. She would introduce herself to people whose future happiness depended on her, too.

She just wondered how he would sort them now. How was it even possible for him to know what kind of person she was? She didn’t even know really what kind of person she was. She wanted to have adventures. She also wanted to be just, and honest. But then again, maybe it was more important to be clever, because she really didn’t want to end up dumb. Dumb people annoyed her.

And she wasn’t really sure she understood what the difference between Ravenclaw and Slytherin even was, at this point. Both wanted people who were smart, somehow? What if she wasn’t smart enough for either of them? Had it ever happened that none of the houses fit? She didn’t want to be the first in _that._

 

Old Lady McGonagall stepped forward again, clapping in her hands once, and the whispers and murmurs died down again. “Now. We will do this alphabetically. When I call out your name, please come forward. You sit down on the chair and put the hat on. When it tells us your house, you get up again, and put the hat back. Understood?” Murmured replies came, and some more or less enthusiastic nodding.

Professor McGonagall didn’t seem to expect a reply, as she had already started unrolling some parchment. “Abbott, Richard.” A boy from a few rows in front of Darcy came stumbling forward. Darcy stood on her tiptoes to watch him. He put the hat on with a really serious expression, as if he had to concentrate on what he was doing.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. What was to happen, anyway? But then the rip parted, and the hat exclaimed “HUFFLEPUFF!” There was loud cheering from Brandon’s table, and Darcy followed the boy with her eyes, feeling a hint of envy. The Professor had simply continued calling up the next name, “Adams, Susan”, who then was send to Gryffindor. Now _they_ cheered.

Darcy felt anxiety rising in her. It was stupid, but she looked back to Brandon, hoping that he would see her. But he was busy talking with the blue-eyed girl. When a girl called “Armistead, Dahlia” was called forward, Darcy could see the girl with the dark locks stumble forward, almost falling down. So she wasn’t the only one with week knees right now.

In that moment she heard some sniggering from the Gryffindor table. It was an older boy, who had _sunglasses_ on. What did he need sunglasses for here? He was elbowing some other, guy, all muscles, but somehow reminding Darcy of her Teddy bear. “Look, Happy, I bet you ten galleons that one’s a muggleborn. I love muggleborn freshers. They always shake like the hat’s gonna eat their brains. Actually, I think some of them wonder if not the whole castle will eat them. Aren’t muggleborns just the cutest shit.”

The bigger kid laughed, but he seemed hesitant. “But… isn’t Mr. Armistead the owner of that Bookstore in the Diagon Alley?” The sunglasses-guy pushed them down a bit, eying the girl with the deep-brown complexion who was now deemed a “SLYTHERIN!” and happily scrambled from her chair.

“Oh yeah. That’d make her a half-blood with a tendency to trip. Boring, but alright, you won that one. Oh, and that one’s a too-cool-for-school. Here’s saying 5 galleons he’ll end up in Slytherin.” A boy with slick black hair and a pale face was called forward. He seemed to be almost bored by the whole procedure, as he gingerly put the hat on. The hat took barely ten seconds to pronounce him, indeed, a Slytherin.

The next kid was already called forward, a tall boy with long, blonde hair. He grinned broadly, and the hat barely even touched his head before he cried out “GRYFFINDOR!” The Teddy-guy stood up and cheered loudly, like everyone else on the table, but the sunglasses-boy only yawned. “Yeah, yeah. Awesome, yippie-aye-yaye. Another one for us. Is somebody keeping count which house is getting the most this year?”

Darcy wasn’t sure why she kept watching him, but at least he distracted her a bit from her upset stomach. She was surprised to see that some boy from the Ravenclaw-table was now getting up, and sneaking over to where the sunglasses-boy sat. He paused in a crouching position and he… whacked the sunglasses-dude overt he head.

Sunglasses-dude yelped. Darcy snickered. “Rhodey! What the… I didn’t do anything!” “Shut it, Tony, you’re scaring the youngsters.” And much to Darcy’s shock, the guy called Rhodey pointed at her with his thumb.

Darcy felt the heat rising to her face, and hastily looked back to the front, pretending to be absorbed with the ceremony. Two more kids had passed before one of the boys from the train was called forward. Avery, Algar. He looked really smug when the hat pronounced him Slytherin.

She grew bored really quickly again, though when she now looked around, she made it a point of not looking to her left, and instead observed as some pale figures floating about. Oh, Brandon had mentioned those. Ghosts. She had never met one. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. One of them pulled at his head, and titled it to the side to greet someone he passed by! Creepy. And there were even more ghosts in the room. Had they been there already when the old Lady had led them in, and she just hadn’t noticed?

“Black, Sirius.” The old Lady now called out, and Darcy looked back to the front. They were only at B? How long was she supposed to be standing here? “How many are we?” She whispered, in the direction of no one in particular, standing on her tiptoes again to see how many kids were in front of and behind her.

Henry replied anyway, excitedly. “I think we’re over one hundred. Many more. I tried counting, in the train, but everyone was walking around. It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Darcy groaned. It would take forever till they got to L.

“He is taking long, isn’t he?” The pale boy from behind her said, leaning forward again. Darcy looked back at where this Sirius-boy was, still sitting on that three-legged chair, hat on his head. She couldn’t really make out his face, but he she saw that he wasn’t looking too happy.

“The longest yet. That isn’t … normal, right?” Henry shrugged. “I don’t know.” And the pale boy, too, shrugged, but he was eying the old Lady. “She would do something if this was… bad, wouldn’t she? She’s a teacher, after all.”

Darcy nodded, with a bit of uncertainty, and felt really relieved for the guy when the hat finally called out a heartily “GRYFFINDOR!” The boy looked happy with it too, but Darcy was surprised to find that the Slytherin table’s booing was almost as loud as the Gryffindors' cheering. “What did he do?” She asked Henry a bit surprised.

Henry grimaced. “You don’t know much about this, do you? Gryffindor and Slytherin hate each other.” But… they hadn’t booed when the blonde kid from before had been a Gryffindor. That didn’t seem right.

Again the pale boy from behind her – she should ask for his name, maybe – spoke up. “That’s false. _You_ really don’t know anything. He is a Black. The Blacks are pureblood, they’re _always_ Slytherin _. That’s_ why they’re angry. See that one?” The pale kid pointed at some older kids at the Slytherin table, who didn’t seem to pay the sorting much attention. “The one with the blonde hair, almost white? The girl?”

Darcy could see who he meant. She sat with her back to the wall, frowning slightly, bent over a book on the table. “Yeah? With the book?” The pale kid nodded. “That’s Narcissa Black. She and that black-haired boy are related. I think cousins.”

Henry seemed a bit miffed. He crossed his arms, and now didn’t seem as excited anymore. “How would you know that?” That was a fairly good question.

The pale boy shrugged, but also couldn’t keep a superior grin off his face. “We’re related, too. My mother made me learn the family trees.” He paused, rolling his eyes. “ _And_ my brother is in the same class as Narcissa Black. Urgh, he never stops talking about her, so that helps, too.” He then extended a hand to Darcy, with a bit of an awkward smile. “I’m Barnabas Parkinson, but call me Barney. My name is awful.” Darcy shook his hand. “Darcy Lewis. My name is awesome.”

By now, Professor McGonagall was already at the girl who Darcy met in the train, the sleepy one. “Burke, Leslie”. Barney pointed at her, before he remembered that that was rude, and he put his hand down again. “That’s a pureblood, too. But I _don’t_ think we’re related. Her family is kind of a big deal, though. Even among purebloods.”

Leslie looked like she would be falling asleep on the chair, before the hat pronounced her a Gryffindor. Barney chuckled. “Her mum, Violetta, will be really disappointed in her for that. Gryffindor. That’s a first for the Burke’s as well. Though probably not as bad as when one of her great-great aunts married a muggle, so there’s that.”

Henry seemed annoyed with Barnabas’ mumblings, as he now huffed, demonstratively looking back to the front. “You’re a real gossip, Parkinson.” Barney didn’t seem disconcerted by that. “People keep telling me that, but you don’t know a gossip until you meet my mother. Her gossip is mean, though. I’m just honest.”

“De Groot, Cilla”, a freckled girl with red pigtails was now sorted into Hufflepuff, before her twin brother Daan was called up. At least they were already at D.

Darcy dared to glance at the sunglasses-guy again. He was talking with that Black-boy that had squeezed himself down besides him. Sunglasses seemed vaguely amused, Serious -… Sirious?...weird name - looked seriously annoyed. Darcy didn’t dare look too long, because she didn’t want to be caught staring again.

But of course she was caught. Barney leaned forward again. “Why are you looking at Stark? Do you know him?” Even Henry, who still seemed to want to ignore Barney, looked around at that. “Stark? Like Stark Industries?” The sunglasses dude had heard them. Of course. When Darcy glanced quickly, he was looking over at them, the sunglasses lowered again.

Darcy elbowed Henry, and pulled Barney between them. “Stop it. I’m not looking at him.” She hissed. Not that it helped. Henry still looked around frantically, not even noticing the Stark … well, in front of him, somewhat. Barney grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “ _Sure_ you aren’t. My brother hates him, because he’s popular with the girls. He’s in the same year, though he’s Gryffindor, so they don’t have all classes together. Do you know him, then?”

“El-Amin, Farid” was called forward, and Darcy tried to focus on him. “I didn’t look, I don’t know him. Hey, do you know that one?” Her attempt at distracting Barney worked like a charm. “Nah. That’s not a pureblood, and all my mom ever made me learn were the twenty-eight sacreds and all the ‘fallen’.”

Henry couldn’t resist showing off that he knew something, too. “A fallen is a family whose member has associated with muggles or muggle-borns, right?” Farid was sorted into Ravenclaw that moment, and “Evans, Lilly” was called forward.

Barney yawned. “Yeah. If they don’t disown that member. That’s what the Blacks and my family always do. Like pretending they didn’t exist. Most don’t do that, though. Don’t care that much, I guess. See that black-haired boy with the glasses a couple of rows in front us? The one who is waving around obnoxiously?” Darcy stood on her tiptoes, to get a better look, as Barney spoke on. “That’s a Potter. They’re still considered pureblood, but fallen. Or blood-traitors. Makes no difference, I had to learn their bloody family-tree anyway.”

Darcy shook her head a bit bewildered. She had never seen a family tree. She couldn’t possibly imagine how boring it must be to have to learn them by heart. “Was that a punishment?”

Barney seemed to consider it, but shook his head. “I think Mum thinks it’s fascinating. She likes old stuff. History of our family, and the others. History of Magic was her favourite subject, too. That’s taught by that teacher.” He pointed at what seemed to be a ghost at the head table, but some bigger kid blocked Darcy’s view somewhat. But that wasn’t that bad, she would probably get to see him soon anyway.

“Fitz, Leopold” was pronounced as a Hufflepuff, and for a moment Darcy looked in Brandon’s direction again. He, too, was cheering. Would he cheer for her if she didn’t end up a Hufflepuff? She had an idea. She pulled at Barney’s sleeve a bit. “See, that boy with the brown curls and the pencil behind his ear? That’s my brother, Brandon. He likes History of Magic, too.” Both Henry and Barney looked over at him, with some curiosity.

Just as Darcy had hoped, three of them staring made one of the people sitting close to Brandon, notice. She couldn’t help grinning smugly as a boy leaned over to poke Brandon and point at them. Brandon seemed a bit confused, raising one eyebrow and nodding questioningly in her direction. She just shrugged, and waved. Brandon rolled his eyes, gave her a thumbs up, and then turned back to the girl he was talking with. “He seems nice,” Henry offered, and Darcy nodded.

She felt better now, though she wouldn’t tell Brandon that. “He’s okay. He doesn’t constantly talk about girls and I guess that’s a plus. We share our Hogwarts-pet now. Did you guys bring pets?”

This seemed like a good topic. Barney’s family had dogs, but dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts. So he had to leave them behind. He only interrupted his laments of the unfairness of not even having been allowed to bring his pug “Nope” when the girl called “Karimi, Amina” had to push past them to practically run to the front from the end of the line.

Then it was Henry’s turn to tell both of them that be brought a tiny owl he got as a gift by his parents for his eleventh birthday. He had named her “Feathersnitch”, because she had gold-brown feathers and because Henry loved Quidditch. At that, the conversation quickly drifted to the sport, which both boys loved well enough.

 

And then they reached L, finally, and “Lacan, Florence” was called forward. Again, Darcy got on her tiptoes. Despite how annoying Florence had been, she found herself crossing her fingers for her anyway. Florence seemed to be mumbling something to herself as she sat down on the chair and put the hat on. It didn’t take long for the hat to proclaim her a “RAVENCLAW!”

Florence beamed proudly as she got up, and quickly ran over to her brother to hug him, the hat still forgotten on her head. Frederic gently took it of her head and carried it back to McGonagall, who made a stern face. He sat down and put the hat on in swift movement. The brown thing took considerably longer to tell him what he was, almost as long as with that Serious-Black-boy. Darcy really expected Frederic to get the house he had been hoping for as well, and she was really surprised when the hat exclaimed a loud “GRYFFINDOR!”.

Frederic seemed a bit pale as he put the hat down and stiffly walked over to his table. Darcy tried to remember what the hat had said about Gryffindor, as McGonagall called forth “Lamar, Iris”. Bold. Adventurous. Gallant. She didn’t know Frederic too well. Gallant, maybe. She knew that her Grandmother Azalea always used that word to describe the “charming gentlemen”, when she was watching her old movies. Frederic was charming, sort off. But adventurous wasn’t the word she would use to describe that boy.

Darcy turned to Barney, who applauded as Iris was sorted into Slytherin. “Do you think the hat could sort people wrong?” Barney shrugged. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so. But it is kind of an old hat.” Hm. That didn’t sound convincing.

“Láska, Iveta” pushed by Darcy and strode towards the hat. Darcy nudged Barney with her elbow. “Do you know how he does that? The sorting?” Barney shook his head, with an apologetic expression.

Henry spoke up. “Maybe the hat can see the future. He knows what kind of person you will be, and makes sure that you are in the right house to grow up to be that person.” Of course, Barney snorted, but actually, that didn’t sound half as dumb. That would mean that though Frederic wasn’t bold and adventurous yet, he would be so as an adult, or something. That meant that there was still hope for her brother to become the kind, nice guy that Hufflepuffs were supposed to be, and less of an ironic show-off he was sometimes.

Iveta was send to Gryffindor, and a girl standing directly behind Darcy – “Lawrence, Isadora”- was called forth. The girl had short, blonde curls that bounced around wildly as she almost skipped up the stairs. There was snickering from the vague direction of Sunglasses again, but this time, Darcy managed to not look.

She focused on her shoes, proud to see that she was the only one not wearing the shoes meant to be worn with the uniform. Then she wondered if that old Lady would say anything about that. Could one get kicked out for wearing the wrong shoes?

And then the hat exclaimed “SLYTHERIN!” for Isadora, who looked all kinds of horrified, as she shuffled over to that table, the bounce from her steps completely gone. And Professor McGonagall called out “Lewis, Darcy”.

 

It took Darcy the time to blink before she registered that it had been indeed her that had been called forward. Darcy balled her hands into fists and raised her chin as she marched to the front. She would give anything to have Maggie here right now.

The leather was softer than she would have expected it to be when she grabbed the edges of the hat and lifted it over her head as she sat down on the chair. The hat was too big for her, and kept holding unto one side of it, to keep it from pushing down over her face. And suddenly, there was a voice insider her head. Darcy might have yelped a little bit in surprise.

“ _Oh yes, you are a loyal one, aren’t you. Quite bold, too, I see_.” The voice was obviously the voice of the hat, only that his speaking voice was a bit lower than its singing voice. “ _Indeed, it is._ ” Had the hat been talking to everyone else before, too? She had never heard it say any other word than the house name. And could it hear her thoughts? Well, that was bad. How was she supposed to trick it now?

Darcy heard the voice of the hat chuckle. It felt a bit like a vibration against her scalp. “ _Tricking me? My, the last one who has attempted that became Headmaster of this School. Why yes, of course. Quite a cunning, scheming little thing you are. Resourceful_.” Yeah, she got that a lot. “ _Where should I place, you then_?”

For a moment, Darcy considered asking for Hufflepuff. But she also wanted to be all the other things. She didn’t want to be limited. She couldn’t possibly just be in all houses at once? “ _I’m afraid not, child. Your ambition would make you a formidable Slytherin_ , _though.”_ Well. It sure would horrify Florence and Frederic. She would proof them that not all Slytherins were evil. “ _Well spoken. I shall place you then in …_ SLYTHERIN!”

The hat exclaimed the last word out loud, and Darcy pulled off the hat, looking down at the leathery, faceless thing. She felt a bit… tricked. Was this all? No test? Not even a riddle? Professor McGonagall coughed, and Darcy got up from the chair, putting the hat back down on it.

 

Applause and cheering came from the table banner of green and silver. Darcy made her way down the stairs again, glancing back at the hat. The old lady proceeded to call out “Little, Henry” now. Darcy reached the table before Henry reached the hat, and she was greeted by people clapping on her shoulder. She stood there a bit unsure for a moment, before one of the older kids made room for her at his side. Isadora sat on his other side, with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling.

He had dark, curly hair and looked really tired, but his smile was soft and welcoming, so she took the invitation. “Congratulations and welcome to Slytherin,” he offered as she sat down. “Darcy, right?” She nodded, taking in all the faces around her. Slytherin. Then she looked back at the boy. “I’m Bruce, sixth year.” And, with a bit of hesitation, he added “Let me know if you need any help.”

Before Darcy could thank him for that, and ask why Isadora was bawling her eyes out – was it really this horrible to be in Slytherin? Did she also believe that “evil”-crap? – one boy with long, blonde hair, sitting across from Isadora, spoke up. He looked at Bruce in a really contemptuous way. “How utterly selfless of you to help the first years, Bruce. But need I remind you that after you so cowardly fled from Hogwarts last year, you are no longer prefect?”

Darcy could really see Bruce’s jaw twitch, as he held the blonde bloke’s eye contact for a moment. He looked at the purple thing on that guy’s chest, and Darcy wondered what those were. The Narcissa-girl had one, too. Then Bruce frowned, and pulled off his glasses, to polish them with the hem of his sweater. “Of course not, Lucius. As you were busy trying to get Narcissa’s attention, I was just welcoming them.”

It was amusing to see that pale face suddenly lit up with a bright red colour on the boy’s cheeks. He looked in the direction of the blond girl, and Darcy leaned back to see her, too. But sadly, the girl seemed to be too absorbed by her book to have noticed. When Darcy leaned forward again, Lucius looked back at Bruce. “Well, leave that to me. I don’t think you’re the best company for anyone _in your state_. And _Professor Dumbledore_ did make me prefect instead of giving you that title back, so I rather think he shares my thoughts on that matter.”

If Bruce had seemed maybe annoyed or angered by Lucius words before, he seemed to completely deflate now. Darcy had no idea what was going on, but whatever it meant what that Lucius had said, Bruce didn’t give him any reply. He just turned his head clapped as “Loncar, Dragoslav” was announced a Ravenclaw and “Lupin, Remus” was called forth. Lucius seemed just too happy to drop the conversation as well.

 

Darcy waited if Bruce would resume talking to her, but he didn’t and she wasn’t sure what to say. So she continued looking around. She could make out Henry at the table of Gryffindors, at the other end of the room. He sat next to Leslie, who had her head on the table in a suspicious fashion – probably asleep already – and seemed happy enough. Good for him. Barney was still standing in line, and now he was talking to some read-haired kid, who was a little green on his face.

Then she continued eying the people at the table. Slytherin, huh? Her new family, according to Professor McGonagall.

Across from her sat the boy with the slick black hair, who had seemed so bored, and whom Sunglasses had betted to be Slytherin. He still seemed bored, and he had a book on his empty plate. Darcy leaned over a bit, to see what it was.

The boy noticed, and looked up, frowning just a bit. Darcy gestured at his book. “What are you reading?” Wordlessly, he lifted his book a bit, so she could see its back. Only she couldn’t read it. The letters and words were a bit weird. “What is that?”

“Norwegian.” And with that, he put the book down again, and simply resumed reading. Boring. And rude, somewhat. Darcy propped both her elbows up the table, her chin on her hand. “Max, Ellen” was announced a Ravenclaw. She wondered why the boy was reading in Norwegian.

She knew that, technically, kids from other countries could be send to Hogwarts. She knew this because kids from England could be send to other countries as well. Her brother was still pleading with their parents of he could, maybe, attend Bauxbatons, the French wizarding school, for a yeah.

But this kid? His English didn’t sound like it was foreign to him. Maybe he was half-Norwegian.

“So? What is it that you’re reading in _Norwegian_ , then? Any good?” He was eying her in a bit of a weird way. Darcy wasn’t sure what that look meant. It could range anywhere between “you are annoying” and “I am confused”.

“Fairytales. Yes, very.” And with that, he sighed. “Which is why I would have liked to read it in _silence_.” Darcy puffed her cheeks up. That boy really had no manners. And here she had been trying to be nice! “Well, _have fun_ , then. _Sorry_ , for talking to you, bookworm.”

Darcy raised her chin and turned her head in a different direction, to see if there were any nice people she could talk to. She only glanced quickly at him, when the boy closed his book audibly. He carefully folded his hands over it and looked her over, again. Darcy kept her head turned, but still had to look at him. What a weird, small boy.

“I am sorry. You are right, I was being rude. I wanted to read the book on the train, but was kept from it by my … an oafish idiot.” Darcy couldn’t decide if he really was sorry or not. He still looked annoyed. Then he extended his hand towards her, over the table. “Loki Asgardinger. Pleased to meet you.”

After a moment of contemplation, Darcy took his hand and shook it. When she had a long day she sometimes got snappy, too. “Darcy Lewis. Sorry to keep you from your book. My Grandma always tells me I talk too much.”

For a moment, Loki looked surprised, but then a small, mischievous smile appeared on his face. “Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman.” He did not just say that! Darcy frowned, ready to tell him that _his_ grandmother obviously never taught him manners.

He looked at her expectantly, and she realised that he meant it at least half-joking and then she had to laugh, as “Moreno, Iago” is declared a Hufflepuff. Darcy propped her chin in one hand. “So. Are you happy with being Slytherin?”

She glanced at Isadora, who wasn’t crying anymore, but sniffling, as Bruce talked to her in a lowered voice, one of his hands awkwardly patting her back. As if she was coughing, not crying. Darcy made a mental remark to never go to that bloke if she needed comforting.

Isadora had obviously been crying because she got sorted into Slytherin. How many ended up in this house, afraid of becoming evil, and really sad because of this? Was being in this house meant to be a punishment?

The mischievous glint had slipped from Loki’s face again, and he shrugged. “I don’t particularly care for traditions. I don’t know what use it is to sort people into houses.” Darcy nodded, understanding the sentiment wholeheartedly. Though, of course, there are traditions she liked immensely. Like Christmas.

 

Before she got the chance to add her own five cents to that, though, “Mulciber, Bartholomew” was declared a Slytherin, and suddenly the whole table was whooping loudly. Much louder than usually. Darcy frowned, as the boy with blonde curls and a dashing smile made his way to the table, waving at everyone. “Is that boy famous? Or something?”

 

Loki raised one eyebrow, shrugging, yet again. It was Bruce who replied, now apparently over whatever that Lucius-guy had been saying and back to talking to her. Maybe it was just the lesser evil compared to having to comfort Isadora. “The Mulciber-family is an old one, and they are in Slytherin by tradition. It is like… one of the family returning home, I suppose.”

Darcy eyed Bruce wearily, and she thought she almost saw him squirming under her gaze. When she didn’t say anything, he speaks up, again. “What?” Darcy reached out, softly patting his arm. To her, this matter was settled. Bruce was a weird one, but she liked him.

“You know, there was this guy waiting in line with me. Barnabas _Something_. You’ll like him; he knows a lot of weird stuff, too.”

Then she actually returned her attention to the sorting, after she noted that Loki had the book opened again. Probably, he had just been waiting for her to be distracted. She couldn’t blame him too much.

 

The Sorting, though, was only barely really holding her attention. It went on forever. At one point, Barney was sorted into Slytherin, and Darcy jumped up to cheer loudly. But he had to take one of the last few empty places, at the side of a really weird looking, hostile ghost. So she could only wave at him over the table, and the boredom continued.

Shortly after him, a boy made a bit of a commotion. That was exciting. He seems to decide not to want to get sorted, and starts crying. It was a surprise to everyone when “Pettigrew, Peter” was sorted into Gryffindor, finally, after he put on the hat in the end. Even Old Lady McGonagall had a look of constipation and surprise on her face.

The Potter kid, that Barney had mentioned before, ended up in Gryffindor shortly after, and some kids on the Slytherin table mumbled about “blood traitors” at that. It took some thirty more kids to be sorted then, and at one point, Darcy just put her head on the table, trying to ignore her rumbling stomach.

And then, finally, the last kid was called forward. “Zelenko, Olena” looked very uncomfortable, and Darcy couldn’t help but think that she looked much like a ghost – pale, with almost white hair, and her school uniform two sizes too big. Then again, it was probably terrible to have to be the last kid sorted. She ended up being sorted into Slytherin, and had trouble finding place on the table.

For a moment, Darcy’s mind wandered back to sunglasses. Had he kept tally of how many kids had ended up where? She had a feeling that Gryffindor or Hufflepuff might have won. Slytherin probably had the smallest number of kids. Not only in first years, but all together. That didn’t have to be a bad thing, though, right? Being picky just meant that you had standards. Or that’s what her father always mumbled, when he sorted the carrots out of his food.

 

Darcy was almost too distracted by her own thoughts to notice when the old man at the centre of the head table got up. She only noted because Loki flicked his fingers against her forehead, and the wordlessly pointed at the head table.

The old man seemed to smile kindly into the room, stroking his truly impressive white beard. Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster of Hogwarts. She knew him from the frog cards. He looked exactly like on the cards, even the darker strands in his beard.

Then he opened his arms wide, as if he wanted to hug everyone in the room. Darcy wouldn’t mind that. She liked hugs. “Welcome to Hogwarts. Welcome to your houses for our new, welcome back to your home for our slightly older students. Let’s hope that this year will be full of learning, laughter and chocolate frogs. As I am a great fan of surprises, let me just have one for you.”

He clapped once, and the floating candles changed their colours, from a soft yellow to a soft purple. At the same moment, chocolate frogs appeared out of nowhere on everyone’s plate, and started hopping around frantically, under much laughter. Darcy’s frog jumped straight into Loki’s face, and from there on to the table of Hufflepuff’s.

“Ah!”s and “Oh!”s and “Whoa!”s and “Dammit!”s filled the room. And some snickering. Dumbledore beamed. “Ah, yes. Lovely. Let the banquet be opened!”

At that, Darcy was surprised to see that the dishes all over the table were filled with food _magically._ The surprise vanished quickly, in favour for a rumble of approval from her stomach. Finally! While most were still clapping and cheering for that short speech, and busy trying to snatch a frog, Darcy already reached out for the dish filled with roast potatoes in front of her. Oh yes. Welcome to Hogwarts indeed.

Darcy pilled up a little bit of everything on her plate, which earned her an amused chuckle from Bruce. “Just a tip: Leave some room for the deserts.” Darcy nodded, and intended to follow that piece of advice, but everything was so good!

When the food faded, and the plates were empty and sparkling again – Darcy loved magic at that moment – the desserts appeared. And Darcy really had no room left in her, however well the Fondue, the Chocolate Fountain and the tapioca pudding looked. She only took a couple of strawberries, really, and instead watched everyone else digging in happily.

Loki seemed to favour chocolate-desserts of all kind, while Bruce mostly stuck to fruits. And that Narcissa-girl had an obvious love for apple pie. It might be the first time that evening that Darcy saw her smile.

 

By the time her plate was empty again, Dumbledore got up yet once more, and the chatter died down. When the hall was silent, Dumbledore spoke up. “Now, that we are all sated, let me address the usual notices at the beginning of the year. The forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, unless in the company of a teacher. I also have a complaint from our caretaker, Mr. Filch, about magic on the corridors. Our first years should take notice that this is forbidden. Our prefects will be on special duty this year to remind everyone of that.”

Darcy looked up when a very firm clapping came from a man with stingy hair and a sharp nose at that, standing at the side of the door, with a cat by his feet. The smile on his face was almost cruel.

The headmaster didn’t seem to be too fathomed by that applause, as he only paused briefly, before he continued. “Madam Hooch will also be hosting the Quidditch trials at the second week of the term again, and asked me to cordially invite anyone willing to play for their house team to come.” Darcy heard some more mumbling at that, and looked at the direction of her brother. Last year, Brandon had tried to get a position, but failed.

As Dumbledore spoke on, about a reminder to everyone that the kitchen, too, was off-limits to students, even to Hufflepuffs, Darcy turned to Bruce. “Are first years allowed to play Quidditch, too? Do you play?”

Bruce, who had his gaze on Dumbledore, looked at her quickly, with a small smile. “Yes and no. Yes you can try, but first years rarely get a position. And no, I don’t play. I, ah, don’t do well under stress situations.”

Before Darcy could ask what was so stressful about Quidditch, Dumbledore cried out that now the school song was to be sung. “Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!” He flicked his wand like a conductor and golden words floated in the air above him.

Darcy squinted at them, and as the hall started singing of “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts” she looked around a bit confused. Almost everyone was singing it differently. Loki wasn’t singing at all, his expression was scandalized.

Bruce seemed to mumble more than he sang. Isadora sang the words to the tune that reminded Darcy of “On the twelfth day of Christmas”, her tears forgotten. Someone else sang it loudly to a very upbeat, cheerful song and was at least two lines ahead of Isadora. It was… horrible, and wonderful, at the same time. Why had Brandon never told her of this?

Almost towards the end, Darcy started singing out loudly, too, having settled for that muggle song that Maggie had showed her. “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. Yet again another proof that not having magic wouldn’t have been so bad.

Darcy finished the song a bit after Isadora, but there were some already finished, and some finishing after her. Dumbledore waited until even the last few kids were done with “And learn until our brains all rot” with a happy smile, and after that everyone clapped cheerfully.

Hogwarts was odd. But utterly likeable.

Dumbledore proceded to call the banquet officially done, and asked that the Prefects spread the new codeword for the common rooms among the older students, and that first years should gather around at least one of their prefects, who would lead them to the place.

At the Slytherin table, a girl with a slightly Asian look to her, brown hair in a tight ponytail and brown eyes with a decidedly annoyed look to them got up. She walked to the head of the table, where she paused, looking over the group of people. Then she whistled through both of her fingers, which made pretty much everyone in the room freeze. Not that she noticed – or cared. She didn’t even need to raise her voice now to be heard all over the Slytherin table. “Slytherin First Years to me.”

Darcy scrambled to get to her feet, and rounded the table, standing at the side of Loki. Barney snuck up on her other side, elbowing her slightly with a grin that she returned. So much for her worries. She knew at least three nice people in Slytherin already.

The girl with the ponytail spoke up, once she seemed pleased with the amount of kids around her. Again, the slight mumbling died as soon as she spoke. “Welcome to Slytherin. My name is Melinda Quiaolian May. I’m a fifth year student, one of the four house prefects, and your go-to-person if you have difficulties. Real difficulties, please, and not just problems with folding your clothes the right way.”

She wasn’t smiling as she said that. Darcy wondered how often students had those problems. She thanked her mother mentally for having shown her how to fold her clothes at home. Melinda spoke on.

“The other house prefects are Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, both sixth year, and Nolan Runcorn, fifth year. We all wear a purple badge,” at this she briefly touched the one pinned to her chest. It was indeed the same one that the Lucius-guy had been wearing. “And we will be there guide and watch students of the house. We will also make sure that no-one steps out of line.” She paused, slightly, as if anyone would dare to speak up now.

Then she continued, with a quick glance at the prefect of the Hufflepuff-house, who nodded in her direction as he led out his first-years. “Now, I will lead you to our common room. You are not to disclose the position to anyone not in the House of Slytherin. To enter you will need your password, which will be changed frequently. New passwords can be found at the blackboard of the common room. Get in rows of two and follow me _quietly._ ”

It was probably due to the girls threatening aura that everyone managed to quietly find a person to stand next to, without much fighting or squabbling. Darcy was behind Loki, who had ended up next to Barney, and at the side of Isadora. At least the girl wasn’t sniffling anymore.

When Melinda seemed at least a bit pleased with them – not that she smiled or said anything, Darcy was just making assumptions there- she started to walk out of the hall in large steps that a couple of kids almost had problems keeping up with.

 

She led them through the great hall, and then down a couple of staircases into the cellar. They had to pass through a couple of dungeon-like rooms, and were greeted by a great number of ghosts. There also was a great door that refused to open at first. Melinda pointed out to them that the door didn’t like its handle to be touched, so one had to knock thrice on the iron frame for the door to swing open. Darcy hoped she would remember that bit.

And then, finally, they paused in the middle of a hallway, at the side of one torch. Melinda pointed at the thing. “This Torch is slightly different from other torches we passed. If you are not sure that you are right, touch the lower tip of the Torch.” As Melinda did so, the flame of the Torch died. Only when Melinda pulled her hand away did the Torch light itself again.

Then Melinda turned away from the torch, to the pupils. “The password for the next month is ‘Amortentia’. Direct your words at the torch.” Then she turned, and did so. Isadora next to Darcy squeaked in surprise, as the black stones of the wall seemed to give in. Some rattling of chains could be heard, and then there was a doorway in the wall that had not been there before.

Much like everyone else, Darcy held her breath as she entered the place. She had to say, that this alone was probably worth it being in Slytherin. There were rough stones walls, with much glass windows at the walls and even at the ceiling, from which round lamps were hanging, emitting a green glow that matched the turquoise glow of the _water_ behind the windows. That was not what Darcy had expected being underground. So they were beneath that Lake they had passed before, in their little boats?

“Awesome!” Darcy whispered, and Barney grinned at her over his shoulder. Loki was staring at the ceiling, where parts of the rough stone were smoothed out and painted with snakes, fauns and other mystical creatures. His awe reflected that of most students, judged by the hushed whispering of admiration.

Melinda positioned herself in front of an elaborately carved mantle piece of a fireplace, so everyone had place in the room. Some of the older students were sitting in luxurious black leather sofas, reading or chatting. Even they fell quiet as Melinda spoke up now, a hint of amusement clearly on their face.

“This is the Slytherin Common Room. You will spend your time between lessons and in the afternoon here. The bookshelves are open to everyone, but make sure to return the books in the same fashion that you took them. Eating and drinking is allowed, but if you make a mess, you have to clean it up. Besides the entrance is the black board. Important notices and new passwords will be posted there, so be sure to have a look at it regularly.”

Darcy glanced at the thing over her shoulder, and had to smile when she saw Bruce standing in front of the blackboard. She waved, and she saw Bruce smiling for a moment, though he didn’t wave back. When Melinda continued, Darcy turned again.

“To my right is the Boy’s Dormitory, to my left is the Girl’s Dormitory. Please notice that Boys are forbidden from entering the girls Dormitories, and you will be kept out by magical means if you try to enter. It is not pretty, so don’t try it. Though the other way round is technically not forbidden, I would strongly advise you to keep to your own dormitories, or you’ll have to answer to me. Understood?”

 

The boys and girls answered almost at the same time, and Melinda nodded. Now she even seemed to smile for a heartbeat, before she looked at a clock positioned just behind her, above the fireplace. “Now, I think that the most important things are covered. You will find your luggage and your pets delivered to your Dormitories and on your respective beds. Your schedules for tomorrow will be waiting there, too. Read them carefully. If there aren’t any more questions, you are dismissed.”

The mumbling of the kids returned full force, as Melinda May turned, and walked towards Bruce, talking to him with a lowered voice. Darcy looked around, a bit unsure of what to do. Loki had headed off for the his Dormitory the second Melinda was done, as had Isadora.

The blonde-locks dude called Bartholomew, whom everyone had cheered on so loudly, had his arm around a very small, sickish looking guy with black hair and a somewhat crooked nose. He was talking to him, and leading him towards the Boy’s Dormitory, with some more kids trailing behind him.

Barney pocked Darcy in her sides, and she yelped. “Hey!” Barney grinned shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. He was glowing, and Darcy remembered now what he had said about his family being among the old ones. He probably was happy to be in the same house as everyone in his family had been. Good for him. He leaned in a bit, cupping one hand around Darcy’s ear, whispering now.

“Just heads up. Slytherin does an initiation-thing for first years in their first week at the place. We’re not supposed to know this, but my brother warned me. The boys have to go swimming in the lake at midnight, and I think the girls will go to the forbidden forest. So sleep in your pretties pyjamas.”

Then he pulled back, winked at her, and rushed to his Dormitory as well. Darcy frowned, but then a smile spread on her face.

 

Hogwarts was odd, and loveable, just like everyone had promised. And Slytherin? Well, Slytherin seemed nothing like everyone had said. Darcy could smell the fun waiting for her already – and she was looking forward to it. This would be an awesome school year. She couldn’t wait to write Maggie about a bit of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Darcy-in-Hogwarts-AU! that was prompted in August by my lovely Maria (aka [barnebucky on tumblr](http://barnebucky.tumblr.com/) ) with a specific set of things she asked for. The prompt was for Darcy to be Slytherin during the Marauder’s time and to include as many of the MCU-characters as I could. So, because Maria is awesome and always very supporting, I naturally put as much effort and time as I could muster in this.
> 
> I spend at least a month on research on this, drawing some family-trees, researching teachers, researching canon-events, creating a full directory of Students in Hogwarts at 1971. I have a 20-pages word document filled with meta and canon-material to keep in mind. I might come to post a lot of Meta on tumblr, and if there’s anyone interested in it, I will link to it in the notes. 
> 
> This crossover will not be as thorough as the books, because I don’t really have time to write seven books and more, but I will try to do my best to do the universe justice. The prompt also asked for post-Hogwarts-Events to be considered, so there might come a lot of time skipping. In case you have questions, shoot them at me. Prompts for specific scenes or characters are welcome as well, if I can incorporate them.
> 
> You will also quickly come to see that one aim of this story is to colour up Rowling’s black-and-white picture of the Hogwarts Houses. So be prepared for a lot of that.
> 
> Aside from that, have a warning. 1971, the time of the Marauders, is not a pretty time for the wizarding world. We all know the movements that You-Know-Who and the Death Eathers were based on. There will be a lot of hateful things in later parts of this story. 
> 
> Also very inspirational: This picture that I stumbled across on fuckyeahdarcylewis ages ago. http://fuckyeahdarcylewis.tumblr.com/post/49784029324/ink-and-coffeestains-sentiment-a-chemical . The child is pretty close to what i imagine Darcy looking like.
> 
> On that note - this story is for the awesome usedkarma, too, because I adore the shit out of her. She's the person behind the wonderful fuckyeahdarcylewis-tumblr, and I wouldn't be writing Darcy-centric stories if it wouldn't be for this blog - so, by extension, if it wouldn't be for her. I hope you might like this.
> 
> PS: Is it possible to make a story part of multiple series'? Because I can't seem to do that. Or I'm just too stupid. Wouldn't be very suprising.


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